


Open Your Wings, Evil Angel

by curlspen



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Extended Universe, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Clark Kent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Really It’s A Hallucination, Past Child Abuse, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Temporarily Unrequited Love, but still
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlspen/pseuds/curlspen
Summary: At Arkham Asylum, Lex falls victim Dr. Crane’s experiments and is saved by Superman.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor Jr.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

Lex’s legs don’t want to hold him up when Superman sets him down, but the God keeps a steadying arm around him. When Lex tries to shrug out of the embrace, Superman’s grip tightens. Not quite hard enough to hurt, but plenty hard enough to warn.

Superman starts walking, and Lex has no choice but to walk with him. Superman broke off Lex’s restraints before he flew him out of Arkham, but there still isn’t anything Lex can do to stop Superman from doing whatever it is he’s going to do.

Lex closes his eyes, taking a deep breath that does nothing to loosen the knot that has been in his stomach for hours or days or years. The air smells like salt. Are we near an ocean? Does it matter? Probably not. Lex looks around anyways in a desperate attempt to understand what is around him, as if that will help him.

They’re inside a building, Lex recognizes the architecture as Kryptonian; an arrogant sleekness (not unlike Lex’s own home) combined with a reptilian eeriness that reminds Lex of Lovecraftian Monsters. It sends a shiver down his spine, a shiver of awe as well as fear. It’s a familiar combination, a combination that feels like home.

Around every corner, Lex feels like he’s sinking deeper and deeper into the belly of a beast. He has moved past fear, past panic, into a quiet place high above. A place of numb terror that is almost like calm, almost like death.

Lex is staring at the ceiling trying to decipher the meaning of the designs from the Kryptonian he had learned from the Kryptonian archives but the words keep shifting. Suddenly, his attention snaps back to Superman tugging his arm with purposeful gentleness. Conditional gentleness, Lex knows this game.

“It’s in here, Lex. Come on.” 

The God speaks? Hallelujah! Lex goes into the dark room, trying to stand as confidently as he can for as long as he can. If he wasn’t still wearing an orange jumpsuit, that’d be easier.

“Lights on.” Superman orders in fluent Kryptonian.

The lights come on, and they are refreshingly warm compared to the harsh, soul-sucking lights at Arkham Asylum. Lex nearly laughs at himself but manages to bite back the maniacal giggling. Yes, at least you’ll have pleasant lighting to watch your limbs ripped from your body.

Superman comes closer, far too close for Lex’s comfort but there’s nothing he can do about that. He gets close enough to kiss Lex, Lex stops breathing, and then he steps a few feet away. Superman begins to predatorily circle Lex. Just as Lex had circled Superman on that rooftop years ago. He isn’t fooled by the look of pity on the God’s face; he knows what comes next in this story, in this dance. He knows what he has to do, and there’s a sick relief in no longer pretending to be strong.

Lex falls to his knees with as much grace as he can manage. Even bowing his head in submission. When Lex exhales, his long-held breath comes out as a whimper. Alexander Junior dies not with a bang, but with a whimper. Lex tries to ignore the moisture he feels on his cheeks and blinks the sting from his eyes. He hasn’t even done anything yet.

Superman lays a hand on his scalp. On the rooftop, Lex couldn’t muster the courage to touch Superman. Even as his hand trembled with desire. Lex wore his power the way his father had, like an ill-fitted suit. Superman wears power beautifully, he has the air of someone who has been comfortable with his power all his life. Who has never been broken down and made to feel like nothing.

Lex’s vision is clouded like he’s underwater.

“Shh, shh.” The hand on Lex’s head is gentle as it strokes him, almost loving. But Lex doesn’t let himself believe that means anything, he isn’t that naive. He can’t be.

“Please...” Lex had hoped to avoid that word, but what the fuck does he have to lose? “Please, don’t.” 

Lex tried to fight; but boys can’t fight fathers, and men can’t fight Gods. They can only make themselves smaller and hope He stops soon.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Lex. I keep trying to tell you -“

“Don’t lie to me.” Lex’s knees shake under his weight, which is next to nothing thanks to the accommodations of Arkham Asylum. “Please.”

“I’m not lying. Lex, just listen -“ Lex’s knees give way and he begins crawling backwards and sobbing, no longer caring to hold onto his dignity.

Superman’s brow furrows, Lex’s hands reach to cover his face. He closes his eyes, and all Hell breaks loose.

One moment he’s hugging his knees, in a position that had always meant safety. And the next, he’s being dragged off the floor by methodical, cold hands. Familiar hands, only much, much stronger.

“Stop whining, Junior. If you just take your punishment, this will be easier.” His father’s voice comes from Superman’s mouth.

Superman’s fist moves faster than his father’s ever could, his jaw breaks when it strikes. The sickening, moist crunch reverberates through Lex’s skull. He can feel his jaw hanging loosely, the bone swaying painfully with every movement. 

The next blow blinds him in one eye. The next blinds the other. He can’t see, he can’t cry.

“I told you to stop crying, dummer junge.” 

Lex raises his hands to cover his face, Superman takes his fingers in his and crushes them like toothpicks.

Lex screams because he can still do that. Superman is trying to say something in a deceptively gentle voice, but Lex can’t hear him over his own screams. 

The God says something else, Lex catches something about ‘Kryptonian medicine’ and ‘right back’ in-between his own screams, his own pathetic begging.

His father’s voice fills his head, Superman’s hands continue to break his bones. 

Something pinches the back of his neck. Lex’s screams simmer down to whimpers. 

Superman’s hands are no longer all over him, only on his shoulder and they’re not crushing him anymore. He’s being gentle.

Lex knows this part. After the beating, daddy tells him how much he loves him and it’s for his own good. He almost hates this part more, hates the stupid, sick blossom of hope in his stomach. 

“It’s okay, Lex. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore."

Superman patiently repeats the words until Lex relaxes. Or, more accurately, goes limp and falls back onto Superman’s lap. The red cape wraps around him, and Lex fingers the fabric that is impossibly soft and warm as if it had just been soaking in the sun.

Lex opens his mouth, his jaw no longer broken.

“Clark? Wha- Was that real?”

Lex feels Superman’s breath on his scalp when he speaks, maybe being bald isn’t so bad after all. 

“Jonathan Crane has been experimenting on patients at Arkham, a drug that makes people see their worst fears.” Superman’s hand falls from his shoulder before Lex can catch it. Lex clutches the cape tighter. “I didn’t know you were afraid of me.” 

Lex pulls the cape to his lips and closes his eyes.

“You were screaming my name and - and daddy. Am I the same to you?”

“No. No, you’re not.” Lex doesn’t know why he feels the need to reassure Superman but he isn’t sure about anything his brain is doing today.

“I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you? Not even if you try to make me. I hope you believe that.” 

“I called out for you.” Lex whispers so softly that if he were talking to anyone else, they probably wouldn’t have heard him. “When he injected me, I remember now. I called for you.”

“You did, and I heard you, that’s why I came and got you out of there.”

Superman saved him. Again.

“Why do you keep saving me?”

“Because I think you’re worth saving, Lex.”

Then why didn’t you do it sooner? Lex swallows the lump in his throat several times before he feels it’s safe to speak. 

“Well, it’s your funeral.” 

Superman shrugs, the movement sending delicious tingles up Lex’s spine. 

“You’ve killed me before. It was actually pretty anticlimactic, I expected death to be more like death and less like sleep.”

Lex laughs, the knot in his stomach finally loosening.

“I’ll have to try harder next time. I’m sure there are better ideas in my notes somewhere.”

“I’m sure there are, Lex.” Superman replies almost affectionately, wrapping his arms around the bundle of red cape and Lex.

Too tired to resist, Lex allows himself to melt into the embrace. Clark is everything warm and safe in the world wrapped around him, protecting him with Godly strength.

As they ascend, Lex has no idea where he is nor does he try to find out. He’s in Superman’s arms and he’s never felt safer. Tomorrow, he’ll let himself feel guilty about the way he’s nuzzling into Clark’s chest, tomorrow he’ll plot a way to destroy him, but for now he simply enjoys the feeling of weightless bliss.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, Lex is in an asylum that feels like a hotel compared to Arkham. He isn’t surprised when Clark Kent requests to be added to his visitation list.

Clark smiles at him as he’s escorted in, Lex doesn’t smile back (not that Clark expected him to).

“How are you doing, Lex?”

“Peachy. Why are you here?” Lex replies, the residue of embarrassment over their previous interaction in the back of his mind.

“I came to see how you’re doing. Dr. Crane’s toxin doesn’t go away all at once according to Bruce’s research. Are you having any nightmares or hallucinations?”

Lex laughs a curt, bitter laugh while maneuvering his legs into a criss-cross on the seat. This place doesn’t even shackle his ankles, it will be a breeze to escape.

“I always have nightmares, Kal. That’s a gift from Daddy Dearest, not from Dr. Hay-Brains.”

Clark pauses, a look of sympathy that’s becoming far too familiar passing his face.

“Have you ever had nightmares about me?”

“No, not nightmares.” Just wet dreams.

“Good.” Clark says, but his eyes are still troubled. Their pristine blue shadowed. 

“Huh, you’re really bothered by this aren’t you?” Lex leans forward, searching Clark’s face for dishonesty but finding none.

“I don’t like the idea of you being afraid of me, Lex. I never set out to scare anyone, but it always happens. Even when I try to help people, they’re afraid of me just because of what I can do or where I’m from.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Kal.” It’s only half a lie.

“You just hate me?”

“Did you listen to any of my monologue? I‘ll have you know, Clark-Joe, I worked hard on that just for you.”

Clark actually chuckles at that and Lex’s heart flutters stupidly in his chest.

“I did listen, I’m just trying to understand.”

Lex sighs heavily, looking up as if searching for the words. Once he finds them, he can’t stop them from spilling out. “Gods are dangerous. They can be made out of words or flesh or steel, but once people decide to make something a God... well, then they’ll do anything for it. Let it do anything it wants, no matter how evil, let it feed and feed and eat up all they are but they’ll never stop calling it love because Gods are good, they have to be good or how could we possibly survive the terror of them... humans will do a lot to avoid facing how breakable they are. Not me. My dad made sure I knew I was breakable, that I knew before I knew how to spell just how easily my flesh could bruise and split and burn... I never got the illusion that Gods would treat me gently. My dad was a God, no one believed he could be anything but good because he had so much power he had to be! No one believed me about you either.” I don’t believe me about you, Lex’s mind screams but he can’t get the words out. He almost wishes Clark could read minds.

When he’s sure Lex is done, Clark replies calmly; his brow furrowed and if Lex is not mistaken, his eyes slightly moister than they were before Lex began.

“I’m not a God, Lex, and I never claimed to be.” 

“...I know you didn’t." Lex says softly. "But I still have to knock you down.”

"I understand."

"Do you now?"

"I don't agree with you, but I think I understand where you’re coming from." 

“How very kind of you.” Lex forces some venom into his tone but he’s painfully aware of the fact that Clark can hear his heart plummeting in uncertainty. “It’s too little too late though. You can’t save me. It’s not fixable, what’s wrong with me. It’s too much damage.”

Fuck. Lex didn’t mean to say that, didn’t mean to sound so weak. But the words are out and he can’t force them back down.

“I can try.” Clark says, staring at Lex so intensely that he’s surprised one of the guards don’t tell ‘look, it’s Superman!’

Lex shivers, his eyes stinging but he swallows hard. He’s not crying at Superman’s feet again. He can’t do that again.

Clark is actually considerate enough to avert his blue-fire gaze, and the breath Lex didn’t realize he was holding spills out with an audible sound.

After a few steadying breaths, Lex speaks too softly for the guards to hear. So softly only Superman could possibly hear it. 

“I have been having nightmares, worse than usual. I’ve barely slept. I’m too afraid to go to sleep, I feel like m-my dad is standing in every dark corner waiting for me to close my eyes so he can pounce.”

Clark puts a hand over Lex’s, moving slowly enough that he doesn’t feel the need to flinch.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ll see you tonight.”

Lex opens his mouth to ask more but the guards announce his time is up. Clark gives his hand one last squeeze before pulling away.

That night, Lex isn’t surprised when he hears a soft whoosh at the window of his cell, sees a scarlet cape billowing in his peripheral vision. He debates if he should acknowledge Clark at all. In the end he decides to just close his eyes and go to sleep, no longer afraid of the dark with the sun-god watching over him and lighting the his dreams.

That night, he dreams not just of cruel fathers and dark secrets, his mouth does not fill with unheard apologies and the taste of blood. That night, Lex’s dream takes a turn.

He’s hiding in the closet, under the bed, in the bathtub behind the curtain, it doesn’t matter where they all looked the same; dark and small but never small enough to not be seen. His dad’s footfalls come down the hall, loud as gunshots.

“Come here, Junior. Stop hiding, you’re only making this harder on yourself.” The steps come closer. “I can hear you sniffling in there. Last chance to come out on your own.”

Lex tries to. He tries to be good, but his legs feel too weak and shaky to move in his fear. He closes his eyes, crying louder than his dad’s footsteps.

The door opens, and Lex doesn’t open his eyes. He waits for large hands he knows too well to coldly and methodically drag him out of his safe space, for the voice of his nightmares to remind him how this is all for his own good and if he just did what he was told...

But it never comes. Instead, sunlight spills through the door to kiss Lex’s face, glistening in his tears and snot. Lex blinks open his eyes, and Clark is kneeling to his level. All good and all powerful.

“Do you want to come out, Lex, or would you rather stay in there?” Clark’s voice, not his dad’s.

Lex looks around behind Clark but all he sees is light. 

“He’s gone, Lex. He can’t hurt you anymore. It’s just you and me.” 

With that, Lex uncurls his body and crawls out into the light, into Clark’s warm embrace.

He wraps his arms around Clark’s neck, his legs around his waist. Lex tightens his body around him with all his little boy strength, getting as close to him as he possibly can. Clark’s arms are around him too, wrapping his cape around him and holding him together in a bundle of warmth. 

Clark kisses him, just on the forehead, as they float more than fly upwards.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“It’s okay.” Lex mumbles into the Clark’s shoulder. He doesn’t close his eyes, he stares at Clark’s face for as long as he can until the dream fades. “I’m not mad at you anymore... I love you.”

When Lex wakes, his face is wet and his cell feels impossibly cold compared to the dream. Lex sniffles, and something outside the window shifts.

He looks, and gasps to see Clark is still floating outside his window with the sun beginning to rise behind him. Lex suddenly is no longer cold.

“Are you okay?” Clark asks, his voice as gentle as the whispering winds.

“Yeah. It was a good dream... Thank you.” Lex finally says, the words coming out squeezed through the heaviness of his chest.

Clark nods, smiles.

“You’re welcome. You can go back to sleep if you want, I’ll still be here.”

Lex does, swearing that he hears the winds whisper “I love you too.” as he floats back into the sunlit dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to post and it un-beta'd but i hope you enjoy :)

Lex is released before he gets a chance to escape. It takes three days to finish cleaning the mess the cops left when they searched the place, Lex has never been one to clean but with his staff gone he finds the experience pleasantly distracting and satisfying. On the fourth day, he gets back to work in his lab. Nothing to kill Superman (right now), he’s working on an AI and a body for Mercy 2.0.

Superman still watches him sleep, every single night. At this point, Lex feels like saying something about it would make him more humiliated than he already does so he continues to sleep on his side facing away from the balcony, pretending he doesn’t know the alien is there. Superman’s presence is comforting, but that comfort in of itself is unsettling. It’s unnatural and surreal and painfully vulnerable.

Lex is thinking about it as the elevator carries him out of his lab for the first time that day. He should consume something more filling than coffee today, if he loses too much weight then the psychiatrist that he sees bi-weekly will file it and it’ll be a whole ordeal. He isn’t even sure what he has in his fridge, but it doesn’t really matter. The elevator door pings open revealing Lex’s open bedroom door. 

He yelps embarrassingly loud when he sees Superman already on the balcony. The sun is still peeking behind the skyline, giving Superman a beautiful background of lavender and soft orange (as if he needs to be any more beautiful). Lex never gets to bed before ten pm and Superman never shows up until Lex is safely hidden under the covers with his eyes away from the glass. Even stranger, Superman is not wearing his suit and is instead standing on Lex’s fifteenth story balcony in human clothes. Its almost as bizarre as if Clark Kent were floating.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lex mutters, reluctantly opening the balcony door and giving him a jerky hand gesture to say, ‘Come in, I guess’.

“I brought you food.” Clark answers almost apologetically, lifting the to-go bags in his hands that Lex had not noticed before. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I can leave if you want.”

Lex puts his hands on his hips, sizing Clark with a raised eyebrow. 

“I do have a front door, you know. I have more than one door on the ground floor, actually.”

“All with security cameras and buzzers and street views. I thought you may prefer people if didn’t know that you… tolerate Clark Kent.”

Lex really hates when anyone except him is right, but it especially burns when it’s fucking Kal-El who is right. Swallowing thickly, Lex diverts his attention to the bags. 

“What is that?” It smells divine, but Lex refuses to say that. 

“Oh, it’s from this really good Italian place I like. I didn’t know what you liked but I figured everyone likes spaghetti.” 

It’s his favorite. Has been since he was a kid. 

“Okay. Well, I haven’t actually replaced the kitchen chairs yet, the cops broke them for some reason as if that’s where I hid the kryptonite.” – Lex doesn’t know why the flicker of discomfort in Clark’s face bothers him, but it spurs him to move on – “I have just been sitting on the floor…”

“That’s fine. This carpet looks super soft.”

“Super enough for you even?” Lex thinks it sounds stupid the second he says it but Clark chuckles. 

“Cute.” Clark comments without sarcasm. 

Lex sits down crisscross applesauce on the super soft carpet, trying desperately to ignore the ridiculous way his heart skipped a beat at being called cute by Clark Kent. 

“The place looks nice. And so do you. I mean, you look...clean and, uh, you look healthy.”

“Thanks.” Lex replies flatly, mostly to make Clark stop stammering.

“So… are you?”

“Am I what? Clean?” 

Clark’s laugh is nervous, he tucks in his neck and adjusts his glasses. He shouldn’t be allowed to look so human, Lex thinks as he stares but the thought is lacking the rage it should hold.

“No, uh, sorry, I meant are you healthy...like are you doing okay?” 

Lex is starting to feel like Clark’s high school crush again and the feeling is surreal, and most unpleasant for the sheer fact that it’s less unpleasant than it should be.

“I’m not currently in need of saving nor am I plotting your demise, so you can keep your cape up.” Lex drawls, taking the liberty of unwrapping the food himself. Fuck, it looks good and Lex’s empty stomach groans appreciatively.

It feels mildly surreal to eat with Superman, to sit on Lex’s floor and be in comfortable silence together. Lex tries not to stare at Clark eating, looking too human yet again, he eats in big bites like one would expect from a country-raised boy, but he keeps his mouth closed and wipes his mouth. 

Clark’s eyes meet his, and Lex has to act like he wasn’t staring. He tries to think of something to say but nothing comes. ‘So, save any kittens today?’ what do they have to talk about? And when did not looking awkward at dinner with him become Lex’s main Superman-related issue? Lex silently ponders until the food is gone. Then breaks the silence: 

"Why are you really here, Clark?" He asks, less harshly than he means to, before realizing he doesn't want to hear the answer. But he needs to, he really needs to. 

Clark's eyebrows furrow in that way that Lex now recognizes as distinctly Superman. His perfect bow mouth opening them closing then opening again. 

"To be honest, Lex... I'm not entirely sure myself."

Lex realizes that he's holding his arms around his body and rocking back and forth slightly. He used to do that a lot when he was nervous. It’s one of many of Lex’s ‘bad habits’, as his father called them. Clark has politely ignored it, of course. 

“I really did want to see if you’re okay.”

“Why? I thought you’d alleviated your misplaced guilt by now. Or did I underestimate your martyrdom?”

“I don’t need to be a martyr to care about you, Lex.”

Lex laughs high and humorless, hunching his shoulders and cocking his head at Clark.

“You need to be a glutton for punishment at the very least. Did you forget who I am? I’m not some little bird who fell out of a tree, I’m the man who tried to kill you!”

“I remember, Lex. I remember feeling more visceral fear than I’ve ever felt in my life on that rooftop. I remember looking up into your cruel face mocking me, I remember wanting to hurt you and I remember being unable to stomach it.”

Lex holds his breath despite the passive, almost casual tone of Clark’s voice.

“I get it, you know who I am.”

“No, I don’t.” Clark corrects gently, but it still stings slightly. “You’ve seen me at my lowest point, and I’ve seen a window into yours, but that’s not who we are. Maybe that’s why I’m here, to see you…in a less harsh light.”

Lex’s breath exhales audibly. “You can come back tomorrow if you want.”

They both know Clark isn’t leaving-leaving yet, but Lex still wants that time to remain unspoken and separate from whatever this is.

“Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

“Great. I’ll buy the next one."


	4. Chapter 4

Flying is colder than most people imagine it to be, especially when Clark is alone and he can go up above the clouds where the air is thin and even the hum of humans and bugs and birds is muffled. Sometimes it’s calming, a chance to breathe, but today it simply feels cold and that cold feels like doubt itself gnawing at his flesh. It was much more comfortable to be alone with his thoughts before his thoughts became consumed by Lex Luthor.

Clark has tried to stop thinking about the enigmatic billionaire, but he cannot. It would be easier to write Lex off as evil, as nothing more than the person who maliciously caused the worst night of Clark’s life and killed over a dozen people without a care, but that is not all Lex is. Lex is not Zod, he was not genetically manufactured with one simple and unwavering focus; he is a human being forged by myriad tragedies and cruelties. Lex is narcissistic and wrathful and sadistic, but he is also deeply vulnerable and pained in a way that the hero within Clark cannot ignore no matter how hard he tries to. There’s a grotesque beauty in Lex’s brokenness that calls Clark in like a beacon.

But that is not the only thing that makes Clark come back to have dinner with him nearly every day or watch over Lex’s window every night. These are not selfless mercy missions. With every dinner they share, Clark is reluctantly finding more and more things about Lex that he doesn’t just pity, but genuinely likes. When he’s with Lex, he feels like he’s in a dream, drawn in by the darkly whimsical and terrifyingly brilliant mind of Alexander Luthor Jr. The constant buzz of the world in his ears fades away; his world becomes so small that there is only space for the two of them. Clark has come to enjoy Lex’s theatrical presence, his passionate rants, his genius (if quite cynical) theories about the world, his wit and boyish charm. They even have a lot of common interests, and Clark can keep up with him more than either of them would be anticipated.

Their discussions on literature, history, and especially religion usually end in debates but debating Lex Luthor turns out to be one of the most engaging and invigorating challenges Clark has ever faced. For as long as Clark can remember, he’s had to hold back for fear of abusing his superior strength, speed, and senses. But words are the only thing he does not have an unfair advantage in, if anything Lex outweighs Clark in the weapon of language, and so Clark can fight with words more freely than he’s ever been allowed to do anything. Sometimes Clark almost forgets he’s dining and chatting and debating with a monster, sometimes he isn’t sure that it matters at all, and that’s what scares him the most. Despite this, Clark find himself floating down towards Lex’s window…

“Wait, you’re telling me that Superman is a virgin?” 

How their conversation so easily slipped onto the topic of sex, Clark has no idea. It’s much too easy to get lost in Lex’s words and not realize where he’s headed till he gets there. In his mind, Clark sometimes sees Lex as some mischievous, red-gold-haired pixie luring him deep into a dark, enchanted forest.

Clark blushes, Lex didn’t even know the alien could do that.

“Well, umm...”

“Not even Lois?”

“I...tried my best to... satisfy her in other ways, but I was too afraid of hurting her to let myself...you know, penetrate her.”

Lex’s mind is instantly flooded with vivid imagery of shy, doe-eyed Clark Kent politely eating out Lois Lane’s pussy without letting himself get off because he’s too afraid of shattering her hips mid-orgasm. The image quickly shifts to Superman on his knees, looking up at Lex not with blood-red rage as he had on that rooftop, but soft-blue adoration as he worships Lex’s cock with his lips and his tongue and his spit. All his strength serving at Lex’s feet.

Lex shifts his position on the floor, and really hopes Clark isn’t looking at the full erection beneath his pajama pants.

“Well, I know kryptonian genitalia isn’t different than human genitalia, so is it just your strength you were afraid of? You carry people every day and you haven’t snapped any damsels in half yet.”

“That’s different. I’m in control when I’m Superman, but I broke six different beds in my teenage years. And...two more in college.”

Lex cannot help but laugh at that. He hadn’t considered the awkwardness of super alien puberty.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, but that was embarrassing at the time. I had to tell my mom I just jumped on it too hard, but I knew she didn’t believe me.”

A long stretch of uncomfortable silence follows in which Lex’s heart beats faster, Clark must hear it and know Lex is about to ask something that makes him feel like a schoolboy asking out his first crush (not that Lex ever did that, he was focused on learning everything he could about the universe and surviving in his father's house). 

“You could... practice on me, you know?”

“Wha - what?” 

“I mean,” - Lex rushes to explain, his face embarrassingly hot and his erection still rock solid - “it doesn’t really matter if you hurt me. I’m the bad guy, right? I’m not your perfect, pretty Lois Lane. So, just practice fucking me, and if you break me in half, good riddance and you know better for next time.”

Clark gives him that tilted-head, sad puppy face that Lex is starting to know well. It makes Lex’s groin grow hotter, makes him think strapping Superman to a surgical table and riding his cock. God, he fucking hates Superman so much.

“Of course, it matters, Lex, I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.”

“Of course, you don’t, oh great benevolent one.” Lex bites his lip to cut another god-themed rant short.

His dad’s voice in the back of his head reminds him to stop making a fool of himself. That if he keeps letting his emotions control him, he’ll reveal all his weaknesses to the enemy. More than he already has. Another quieter, gentler voice tells him that Clark doesn’t deserve his wrath just because Lex is starting to feel insecure about even asking.

“But...I just meant,” Lex isn’t used to feeling at a loss for words, he hates it and he hates the alien for making him feel this way. “I can take it. If you want to, I mean you probably don’t so just forget -“

Lex’s stammering is cut off by lips against his. It takes him a moment to process how quickly Clark moved across the room...to kiss him. Superman is kissing him. No, Clark is kissing him.

It’s exactly the kind of kiss Lex would expect from a nice Kansas boy; it’s warm, soft, and so gentle that it’s barely there at all. It should make Lex feel warm and fussy and butterflies in his stomach, but it only makes him hungrier and angrier. 

Lex reaches up with shaking fingers to touch the alien’s cheeks, they’re warm and perfect. He wants to dig in his fingernails and drag Clark down to him, to press his body into the much larger man’s chest, but he cannot work up the courage before Clark pulls back to look down at him. Unconsciously, Lex’s fingertips trail the line he had mapped that night on the rooftop; he touches from the top of Clark’s midnight hair to his strong chin.

“Why did you do that?” Lex asks, familiar suspicion creeping back into his voice. He knew it was a stupid, stupid idea to let Superman know how much he wants him. They’re still enemies, Superman will never not be a threat and Lex is stupid, stupid.

“I just thought it would be crude to have sex without at least dinner and a kiss first.”

That’s so cheesy, I hate that, I hate him so much it hurts, Lex thinks - but that doesn’t stop him from smiling like an idiot.

Lex feels like he may throw up, being in Superman’s presence is like a drug, and he may be overdosing. 

“Are you okay?”

“Why are you always asking me that?” Lex snaps. 

“Because you’ll never tell me if I don’t.”

“I don’t remember hiring a personal alien nanny.” 

“I guess you’re just lucky enough to get one for free.”

“All I had to do was try to kill you. And your mom.”

“And my girlfriend at the time.”

“Oh, that hardly counts. I knew you’d catch her. Believe it or not, I’m somewhat fond of Lois Lane actually.”

“She doesn’t feel the same last I heard.”

Lex chuckles dryly. That’s alright, I’d rather have you.

“Your heart sounds almost like a hummingbird, it’s always quick just like you, but right now it sounds like you might pass out. Do you need to sit down?”

“No.” Lex snaps petulantly. I need you to fuck me. Or I need to fuck you, I haven’t decided.

Actually, sitting down sounds really nice but now he can't on principle. 

“Okay.” Clark acknowledges, and tries to be subtle about the fact that he’s keeping a steadying hand on the small of Lex’s back. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow? I think we should both think about this."

The intimacy of the embrace and the conversation dawns on Lex and suddenly he is overwhelmed with the feeling that he must run, run, run away or throw himself off his roof. He simply nods, not brave enough to test his voice or meet those damn blue eyes. He doesn’t know when they became the color he sees when someone says “blue” or “love”. 

"It wouldn't mean anything. I still hate you."

"I know you do, Lex."

Lex’s cheeks are hot, and his heart really is racing. He knows he’s flying too close to the sun, but he isn’t strong enough to push Clark away or try to kill him again. This is dangerous. This is the happiest Lex is ever been. Lex feels like he may throw up and then pass out.

Eventually Lex does relent to Clark’s wordless fretting and lies down on his king-sized canopy bed. He is half asleep the second he sinks into the silken sheets. As if sent by some sick, chaotic God, raindrops start rapidly striking the windows and Lex’s entire body tenses. He pulls the sheets to his chin like a child. Lex has always hated storms, ever since he was a boy. When he was very small, he tried to crawl into his dad’s bed to hide but Alexander Sr. had no tolerance for fear, not even in his six-year-old son. Lex had only hated storms more after that, he couldn’t stop associating the pounding of rain with the pounding of fists.

Clark is staring at him, probably still listening to his quick, panicked little heartbeat. He looks unsure if he should come closer or go away. Lex wants both with equal intensity, but he doesn’t want to be alone in the storm with the sky’s fists trying to break through his windows.

“Why’re you just standing there, Clark-Joe? If you don’t want to stand out there in the rain, then get in here.” Lex slurs sleepily, stupidly. 

“Are you sure?”

“No, but get in anyways.”

Stop that whining, Alexander, or I’ll give you something to really be afraid of. Lex pushes the voice to the back of his mind.

After a moment, Clark nods and crawls into the bed. The red sheets were selected to match his cape, and it shows when he lies against them. The red brings out the lovely blue of his eyes. 

Lex smiles as he falls asleep. He really is completely fucked.


End file.
